Clearing the Malfoy Name
by Angel-Mary
Summary: The Malfoy's are ruined after the last battle. Harry has stepped in to save them. Can Harry, the Weasleys and Hermione come to grips with the Malfoys behind the wealthy mask? Contains slash: Harry/Draco, H/Ginny, LV/NM, LV/LM, R/H, Fred/LeeJordan.
1. Chapter 1

My first Harry Potter fic.

**Clearing the Malfoy Name**

Disclaimer: I do not own HP nor am I making a profit off of this fictional story. Don't sue me cuz you won't get anything.

Warning: This story contains slash, if you're not interested, don't read.

Couples: Harry/Ginny, Harry/Draco, Voldemort/Narcissa, Voldemort/Lucius, Lucius/Narcissa Hermione/Ron, Fred/Lee Jordan and maybe some others in the foreseeable future.

Here we go:

Draco closed his eyes. This couldn't be his reality. How could Potter have done this? How was it possible? The Dark Lord should have defeated him. The Dark Lord was sure to rise again in all of his horrendous glory. Where was the power of the Dark Arts? How could it be that a simple _Expelliarmus_ charm could destroy the greatest wizard in the world? Draco could not fathom how the scene before him was accurate. In the midst of his parents' crushing embrace, Draco could feel his doubt heightening. How did they know that the Dark Lord was really dead? The cheers of delight and awe still reverberated around the Great Hall. The great hero, Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived was nowhere to be seen. Not too long ago, Draco remembered hearing the odd blonde haired Ravenclaw girl shout about some fictional animal in order to gain everyone's attention. It was then that Draco assumed that Potter had escaped the praise of all those gathered and still gathering in the Great Hall. Draco ignored the stares of witches and wizards excitedly whispering and some out right speaking out against the Dark Lord and his followers. The Malfoy name was uttered more than once within Draco's range of hearing. It wouldn't be too long from now that the Aurors would quit their celebrating and take them away. Draco tensed at the thought of his family being separated because of their affiliation with the Dark Lord. Draco had only done what was necessary of him. He served his master faithfully. His father, Lucius and his mother, Narcissa, had both done what had been asked, expected of them. What would happen to them now that they were at the mercy of their enemies? Draco felt his mum's sharp nails dig into the flesh on his right arm. Draco severely hoped that she would continue to remain calm. The last thing the wizarding world needed to know about was his mum's ability to use wandless magic. Not that her powers were dangerous or even useful enough to vanquish the like of the Dark Lord, they were just inexplicably odd, like the blonde girl before. The only true difference between them was Narcissa's inability distinguish reality from fantasy. She had held it together this long, perhaps they would leave unscathed.

Oooooooooooooooo

In the semi-darkness of a hallway leading away from the Great Hall, a small boy appeared. At first, he appeared as a ball of light, but upon unfurling and standing up straight, pale blonde hair moved with an unfelt wind. The light around him faded as he pulled a small blazing object from his pocket. Joyfully, the boy watched as translucent wings spread on either side of the round object and began to flap. Slowly, the object began to lift itself on its own momentum. Before five minutes went by, it was zooming along in the air a few feet above the young boy's head as short, plump arms swung heavenwards to catch it. The boy had yet to speak as he glided after his favorite toy. The legs of the child carried him around the castle as he jumped over crumbled stone and the occasional corpse. He seemed not to see or smell death as it clung to the atmosphere around him. Through hidden passage ways and tumbling on his bottom down hidden stairways, the boy seemed no closer to catching his toy.

The site of a broken gargoyle halted the boy in his steps. Never before had he such a frightening looking creature. Darting behind a column, the boy playfully hid himself from its sight. Dodging behind pieces of blasted stone and the occasional bit of armor, the boy found himself at the feet of the statue. It didn't move. Raising his eyes, the boy found stairs and the glint of gold his eyes had been searching for. Bounding up the large steps, the boy grasped the step in front of him to keep himself balanced. Voices could be heard. The closer he got to the top, the more curious he became.

"Harry, listen to us, we need to figure out what to do. The war is over now, you can come stay with us mate."

"No, it wouldn't feel right. I'll stay at 12 Grimmauld Place. Everything will be fine, I think even Kreacher will come back with me," the voice sounded hallow, with a bare thread of hope.

"No, Harry, you're in shock. I can tell. I'm right, aren't I Headmaster?" This voice sounded commanding, in a caring sort of way.

The boy found himself hiding behind the great door, the only entrance into the lair beyond. It was brightly lit, a warmth contrasting with the cold, dead, drafty feeling of the castle beyond. Watching with bated breath, the small golden object flitted in front of the door, well above the young boy's head before floating in. Small clothed feet soon followed.

There were three people in the room, two boys and a girl. None of them looked as if they had any blood relation to the others. The room was filled with fascinating objects, but no one of them had the same appeal as he is flying toy did. Wandering nearer to the party of three, the boy saw that there were lots of funny faces on the walls and all of them were watching. Only one old face was moving and staring at the boys and the girl. He had white hair and blue eyes. His expression was a mix between sadness and relief. He also seemed to want something, his eyes roamed between the three anxious listeners. His voice rumbled on, in a tired sort of way.

"I agree with Miss Hermione and Mr. Weasley, Harry, now is not the time for you to be alone. You must grieve Harry and you must-"

The boy stopped as the sound of the loud, raspy old voice paused. He glanced up at the many faces on the wall now aimed at him. Opening and closing his hands at his sides, the boy turned slowly in a circle. All the faces indeed followed him, including the three people near the desk where a large stone bowl sat.

"Who would bring a child to a battle ground?" The girl with the long brown hair asked aloud.

The red headed boy only shook his head in reply. He seemed unable to answer. The other boy with the dark hair, rounded glasses and lightning bolt scar stared at him silently. Slowly the boy blinked, his eyes sparkling as a smile began to spread across his face. One word began to play through his mind: playmates. The feeling of curiosity burgeoning in his stomach spread as he reached for the golden object that had brought him there. It lay on the table next to a slim piece of wood.

Before anyone could react, the boy had grabbed the twig like object and pointed it at the golden ball that flew away upon his approach. Ringing laughter echoed through the room and halls following the boy's chase as he led the three wizards from their warm room of contemplation.

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Draco lifted the cool cloth to his mother's brow. She wouldn't last much longer. The Aurors had gathered and the remaining Death Eaters that had been captured whilst trying to flee were being documented. Draco was seated on the floor in the main entrance with his family. His father held his mother tightly with his arm wrapped around her shoulders. It wouldn't be long now before they were processed and sent to a place of holding.

Draco noticed Deputy Headmistress Professor McGonagall not too far away. Every few minutes her gaze swept over them. It was she that brought the cloth and a bowl of cold water after noticing his mother's feverish disposition. It would be long now. Draco wished someone would rescue them. They had neither wands nor support financial or otherwise. There would be mercy for a family of Death Eaters, although Draco himself had never taken the Dark Mark and neither had his mother. Then again, his family's known affiliation with the Dark Lord was sure to damn them anyway.

As the last of the captured Death Eaters were charged, read their rights and taken away through the entrance way, Draco and his family were the only followers of the Dark Lord left. Slowly, the crowd of excited wizards and witches dispersed themselves as they began helping to take the dead away from Hogwarts. He overheard one the Mediwizards talking about the Weasleys taking care of Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks' bodies for removal and burial. Draco knew that Fred was dead and that the Weasleys were still mourning his loss not one hundred feet away from where his family sat sequestered from the celebration over the war's end.

Draco wondered faintly if they would be taken straight to Azkaban. He was an adult by wizarding standards, although he wasn't sure if was tough enough to handle the surreal despair that came with being hold up with dementors. The sound of a prance brought Draco out of his stupor. The Aurors were headed in their direction, but so were two Centaurs. Draco recognized the blonde limping centaur as Firenze, the annoying newly appointed Divination instructor and Bane, the centaur his mother had saved so many years ago. With all the hassle Bane gave Firenze over helping the Boy Who Lived, Draco wondered how Bane had gotten away with staying within the fold. The pondering was short lived as Firenze halted a few feet from them and Bane stopped just a few feet closer. Sitting back on his hunches, Draco wished he had a wand. He would have blasted their way out of the castle and back to the Manor in no time.

Draco lowered the cloth as his father guided him to kneel at his side. Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Draco obediently followed his father's gesture of a short bow. Bane ignored them and focused on his mother, Narcissa.

"I see where your husband has led you, youngest daughter of Cygnus Black and Druella Rosier, sister to Bellatrix Lestrange and Andromeda Tonks, cousin of Sirius Black. This is the end. The Dark Lord has been vanquished. Where do you stand?" Draco stared at his mother from the corner of his right eye, she wasn't moving. Her eyes were larger than usual, her mouth slightly ajar. Draco knew that look. She was no longer with them anymore. Shifting his sight, Draco could see that the Aurors had gathered behind the centaurs, five of them plus Deputy Headmistress Professor McGonagall and the other heads of house. The Weasley clan or what remained of them including the hideous Bill Weasley and his beautiful wife, Fleur stood off to the side observing quietly. Ronald Weasley, Harry Potter's most devoted friend was nowhere to be seen.

Draco wasn't sure what to be more mortified about, the fact that the wizarding world was about to meet his mother uncontrolled by either the Dark Lord or his father or that the Weasleys could look down their noses at the Malfoys. Draco suppressed the urge to cringe as he felt his mother rise. Draco knew without looking that his mother had given into her natural impulse and her aptitude for wandless magic was guiding her actions. Draco could only hope that the outburst wouldn't last too long. He was unsure if St. Mungo's or Azkaban was in his mother's future.

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Harry gasped for air as the little blonde haired boy continued to run away from him. "Stop! Stop I said!"

"This isn't working!" Ron shouted as he aimed his wand at the child only to have Hermione jump in his way.

"He's just a boy, Ronald! You can't hit him. You'll hurt him."

Ron turned looking aghast as he kept pace with Harry, Hermione jogging in front. "Him! He's got the wand! We don't even know who he's working for! And we've been chasing him for a while now, he 's not even tired"

"He just a kid, Ron. Weren't you watching about an hour ago when I took care of Voldemort for the final time?" Harry noticed that they were heading towards the Great Hall downstairs.

"We'll catch him. I don't understand where he came from," Harry huffed as he jumped over a suit of fallen armor. The debris that covered the stone floor was everywhere. Harry had already passed his limit. He was dead tired. He had only survived death a few hours before.

The sound of the small boy's laughter died as he slowed in front of the steps. Harry passed Hermione and swung his arm low, catching the boy around the waist. He was warm to the touch and looked oddly familiar up close. Harry noticed for the first time the color of the boy's eyes, a hue of gray somewhat identical to Malfoy's. Snatching the wand quickly from the boy's grasp, Harry kneeled and began turning the boy around to face him when darkness overcame him.

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It started with darkness, it always started with darkness. Draco couldn't see anything and he was partially thankful. The pulse of magic around him reminded him of his own heartbeat. The thuds continued rhythmically in tune with his own body's harmony. Draco felt his mind lull. His mum had kept it together for so long how could she give in now? Draco was dimly aware of voices shrieking in the darkness about the Dark Lord rising again. Panic had risen, but he knew that in a few moments the voices would subside. They always did.

It was the birth of the stars above him that let Draco know that Bane had indeed started this mess. His mind was always on the stars. Twinkling around him, Draco resisted the urge to grab one and make a wish. His mum had once told him that was how muggles knew magic existed, the shooting of stars. Like a flash of light, the stars disappeared and his mum was standing before him again. Bane had one arm wrapped around her shoulders, her long pale blonde hair messy from the battle hung limp at her back. She leaned against him as if she had no strength left to stand on her on.

Slowly, Draco felt himself settle back into his body. His awareness of his surroundings became sharper. More people had wandered in from the Great Hall. The Weasleys were just letting go of each other. Luna was kneeling not too far from where Draco was positioned on the floor. Lucius looked utterly helpless. The sound of laughter filled the Great Hall and Aurors with their wands brandished turned towards the stairs. Draco knew the laugh did not belong to the Dark Lord; it was far too gentle, young and innocent. Raising his eyes, Draco saw the wizarding world's great hero Harry Potter standing behind one of his mother's creations, illusions. Draco was never sure what to call them.

The little blonde haired boy turned from Harry and stumbled down the stairs. He seemed ignorant of the Aurors and everyone else gathered. A golden snitch flitted above him, guiding him. Draco closed his eyes, deeply embarrassed. Warmth enveloped him as short arms succeeded in pulling him into a fierce hug. Draco was released and he heard his father's disgruntled sigh. Draco knew that the apparition was demanding attention from Lucius in a way that Draco himself didn't remember doing at the same age.

"MOMMY!" Physically cringing, Draco covered his face. His cheeks were on fire. His fists curled.

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Harry wasn't sure whether or not to laugh or cry. The small boy he'd been chasing after with his friends had been a miniature Malfoy! Harry was sure that this was impossible, but the little boy bouncing from Draco to Lucius was real or at least he thought he was. As Harry finished descending the steps, the boy began to glow. The snitch Harry had noticed leading the boy on a wild chase was glowing as well. While the snitch disappeared, the boy did not. He stood beside Mrs. Malfoy who was nearly cradled, quite unnaturally by Bane, the Centaur.

The glow encompassed the small child, until he melted-that was the only way Harry could describe it-into a ball of light. Harry's eyes widened at the sight. Across the hall, Ginny met his gaze and wiggled her eyebrows. Smiling slightly, Harry nearly fell backwards as a copy of Ginny uncurled from the same ball of light. It had moved away from Mrs. Malfoy and stood before Harry. The feeling that swelled inside of Harry let him know that it wasn't a boggart that was causing some cruel form of mischief. This had to be the work of a spell, a powerful one at that. Harry felt no fear as the Ginny look-a-like reached for his hand and replaced the stolen wand proving that it had indeed been the thing that had stolen it in a childlike imitation of Draco. She didn't let go of his hand after she had replaced it. The glow around Ginny's hair made it into a crown. Harry had never seen her so radiant.

Harry tried to move away from her, but she followed his every step, with a curious smile, just like the miniature Malfoy had had. Grasping and raising his hand, she spun around as if on a ballroom floor instead of in the midst of a used battlefield inside a torn old building. Harry knew what the feeling inside of him was. It was love, the same emotion he'd been describing to Voldemort. Harry found himself laughing softly at her antics, he was still somewhat conscious of everyone's eyes on him. Raising her hand to his cheek, Ginny peered into his eyes, "I missed you." Even her voice was the same!

"Impossible!"

"Who's doing this? I demand to know," Harry heard Kingsley Shacklebolt's voice echo across the Great Hall. It sounded so distant. The longer Harry stared into Ginny's eyes, the less he wanted move to away and let go. Even when he heard other voices joining the chorus, his friends included, Harry tuned them out. He only wanted to reside with Ginny in this moment, forever.

Ginny sighed breaking eye contact with him, "Forever is a long time." She gave him a half smile before turning away.

"You read my mind," Harry mumbled as she stopped him from following her. Her hands were placed on his shoulders, "No, you can't follow me."

Enchanted, Harry stared dreamily at her. Harry was sorry to see her go as she melted back into the ball of light only to reincarnate as a young girl with the same reddish hair, only her eyes were a bright green. "Mum?" Harry mumbled to himself. All of his strength left him as he found his legs giving way beneath him. He collapsed onto the bottom steps and watched as the apparition mimicking Lily Potter sat beside him. They stared at each other, Lily in a fond manner and Harry tiredly holding back his tears. He hadn't seen her face since his walk into death's arms hours ago.

"Will you come back with me?" Harry inquired softly, as he turned to take her warm hands into his own. A part of him knew that she wasn't real, but he still wanted her to stay with him. Harry looked up and watched Mrs. Malfoy squat in front of him, her robes were torn and muddied in some places. She had a weary glint in her eyes. Harry noticed that she differed severely from the woman he had met at his first Quidditch match. She was younger without the snobby, stuck up expression on her countenance.

Harry was still sure that her nails were as sharp as ever, especially after feeling them hours before. Glancing between, Draco's mother and his own Harry realized that had never properly thanked her. The Aurors were closing in, but so was Bane. He had followed Mrs. Malfoy to the base of the staircase, an eerie presences emanated from him. Bane appeared battle worn, but his body language suggested that he was excited about something.

Harry reached for Mrs. Malfoy's hand, "Thanks, for what you did in the woods. If it weren't for you, who'd know where we'd be."

"What are you talking about Harry?" Ron's loud voice echoed. He and Hermione had finally traversed the stairs, Ginny was slowly making her way over, although, her mum was following close behind.

Running his fingers through his hair, Harry wondered how thick Ron really was. Hadn't he been listening to his explanation of the night and dawn's events? Mrs. Malfoy continued to hold his gaze as she reached for Lily, the apparition, it shifted again. The small boy unfurled again, born of the light. Instead of the snitch appearing this time, a small glowing red fire engine accompanied him. Jumping up from his seat, the young boy followed the charmed truck as it shrieked and began to roll toward the Malfoy men who had been surrounded by Aurors.

Realizing his error, Harry stood up and shouted without meaning to, "Don't! They've just as much right to celebrate as we do."

"Harry!"

"'Arry!"

"What's he talking about, their bloody Death Eaters!"

"They deserve Azkaban, they do!"

"My wife's dead because of them!"

Harry felt his world shift as dozens of voices shouted against his exclamation. Many grieving wizards and witches were clouded by their pain and Harry understood that they wanted to release their anger at someone. The Malfoys were the most perfect target. Even Fleur used some choice words against them in the mayhem.

"SETTLE DOWN!" Kingsley's voice boomed, amplified by his wand around the entrance way and throughout the Great Hall. Harry sighed thankful for the voice of reason. Harry watched as Professor McGonagall made her way over to where Draco was being forced to stand as he was being charged. He couldn't hear what she was saying, but he could tell by her demeanor that she was not going to let them take Draco without a fight. Harry was sure that Dumbledore had a lot to do with the Deputy Headmistress' change of spirit against the young man who had once plotted the death of the greatest wizard Great Britain had ever seen.

Turning towards his friends, Harry gestured wildly to the scene before him. Mrs. Malfoy had risen and was closely tended to by Bane, who seemed to have moved from his original position as spectator. Firenze was limping towards the safety of an alcove off the main hall. Harry halfheartedly wondered if Firenze would be allowed back into the fold after his darning antics during the great battle. Lucius was surrounded by three Aurors, Kingsley was supervising the discourse between the wizards. Harry noticed how Lucius' gaze remained fixed on his wife as she stumbled under Bane's lead as he moved slowly, but stealthily towards Firenze.

Harry was just about to follow them amidst the chaos, but was stopped by a familiar voice, "Harry, dear, let's get you home."

"What?" Harry exclaimed unsure if Mrs. Weasley, like her son was dwelling in the same universe as everyone else. Didn't they notice the unfairness of it all? Instead of waiting, Harry moved to walk around Hermione who was in his way and nearly fell. A small shriek from behind him and Harry knew without looking that the thing he had stepped on belonged to the apparition of the miniature Malfoy. The airy voice that cried 'Mine' in such a demanding tone reminded Harry briefly of another time when his life was simple and confined to the teasing of his cousin and peers.

"Harry, watch it. You could've fallen, if not for that thing." Ginny murmured as she grasped his right arm. Harry stared at her out of the corner of his eye, she was captivated by the small boy as he leaned over his truck, inspecting it for damage.

"You know," she continued lowering herself to the younger Malfoy's level, "he's kind of cute."

Harry followed her unthinkingly, he really was tired. The flaming red hair reminded Harry of his mother, "I don't think you know who you're talking about. You see, that's-"

"I know," Ginny grabbed his gesturing wand hand. The raucous had died down and Harry could distinctly hear Percy Weasley's voice as he addressed Kingsley as the new acting Minister for Magic. At that announcement, the hall seemed to become eerily quiet. It was as if no one wanted to miss hearing the ex-Auror's first command.

"In that case, I'll have the Malfoys moved to my new office, including Mrs. Malfoy." Kingsley paused and added as an afterthought, "Although she seems a little scattered at the moment. No worries Headmistress, I'd like you to accompany young Malfoy here. I'm sure the rest of the staff can handle the situation here."

At the sound of approaching footsteps, Harry kept his gaze locked on the small back of the blond boy. Harry could hear the pops of Aurors presumably leaving with the Malfoy men in tow. Another decree from the Minster and wizards and witches were being ordered to prepare for the departure of their loved ones from the Great Hall as soon as each investigating team was done. It was not long before Harry was sure that only highly classified Aurors, a few scattered Mediwizards and what was left of Harry's inner circle, including the Weasleys were left. All the while, Harry continued to focus on the miniature Malfoy as he played in a detached realm of calm and excitement with his enchanted muggle toy. Ginny didn't let go of him. Hermione and Ron were seated on the stairs nearby. Ron leaned heavily against Hermione's shoulder as he drifted into a state between sleep and consciousness. Mrs. Weasley had rejoined her husband and was talking lowly and quickly to him.

"Narcissa is not going with your wizards, temporary Minster for Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt." Harry heard Bane's voice disrupt the calm that drifted over everyone still present. His voice was harsh and had a hint of an overprotective quality to it. Harry didn't want to turn away from the apparition, there was something tranquil in the way the boy seemed so detached from the harsh reality of death and destruction that Harry had witnessed over the past few months. Watching him was an escape that Harry hadn't indulged in in quite some time.

The conversation between Bane and Kingsley continued, "She's a witch, the wife of Death Eater and a possible accomplice to what has happened today and last night. She's not a centaur." Kingsley paused as if grasping for the right words to convince the suspicious centaur that relinquishing his protection of the witch would do more good than harm. "She needs help, the Mediwizards at St. Mungo's will see to it that-"

Firenze interrupted the minister with a quiet, yet shocking declaration, "Dumbledore saw no need for St. Mungo's twenty-four years ago. There is no need to send her there now. Dumbledore was not wise enough to read the stars, but he was clever enough to leave such a rare wild wielder of wandless magic to the fate of-"

It was Percy's turn to interrupted Firenze before he could drone on further, "Is she registered? There should some documentation of this allegation. There's no way she would be allowed to go unsupervised. I'm sure even Dumbledore knew that. If it weren't for the registration compliance act of-"

"Perce," George's voice interceded, "shut up." Harry turned at the sound. He hadn't seen George since he was kneeling at the corpse of his deceased brother. Feeling Ginny's hand tighten on his arm, Harry stared sorrowfully at George, grief and guilt mounting. George's eyes swept over him and landed on the blond child. Harry cringed as the apparition began to take shape and he knew before Fred emerged that Mrs. Malfoy's uncontrolled magic was reacting to the heightened emotions of those present. Harry was sure that his mind's concentration on Fred's frozen face helped to reincarnate him.

Harry couldn't stop the tears from falling down his cheeks as Fred stood before him. Wearing the same outfit he had died in. Not even Percy raised his voice in astonishment. Ginny shrieked and he felt her turn away in a sudden rush of emotion. Ron was sitting up, pin straight as Fred turned to greet him. The voice, the mannerisms, even the cocky stride in his gait was the same. Instead of acting like a resurrected spirit and offering an apologetic, watery smile, Fred walked away from them, past his mother and father and brothers into the Great Hall. Harry noted the determined look on his face.

"He's not back to return to his body is he?" Ron asked quietly in an astonished tone of voice.

"Of course not!" Hermione answered, "Unfortunately, once a spirit is gone it can't come back. Fred's not coming back. I don't know what that thing was, but it definitely was _not_ Fred."

George seemed not to care as he followed the illusion of his brother in a trance like state into the Great Hall. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley nearly tripped over themselves following him. Charlie, Bill and Fleur turned after them. Percy hesitated before following, he kept glancing backwards as if someone was going to call him back or worse yet, he behaved as if he had no right to go after them.

Hermione and Ron looked too stunned to move. Harry gently shook Ginny's shoulders. She was turned in an awkward position, her gaze locked onto where her family disappeared inside the Great Hall.

"Do you want to go after them?" Harry inquired.

Ginny shook her head and leaned against Harry for support. Harry knew how she felt. His own aching pain was catching up to him. He as surely riding on fumes that were running out as he sat there.

Harry jumped when Kingsley's voice began their ministrations again, attempting to release Mrs. Malfoy from Bane.

"I am only following procedure. If Mrs. Malfoy won't be taken to St. Mungo's then she needs to be taken to my office. I don't believe my fellow colleagues will be as generous with their patience for her son and husband as I am willing to be. Professor McGonagall can only stall them for so long."

Something in the Minister's words must have registered with the Centaurs because Bane had only to life his left hand a murmur a spell before releasing Mrs. Malfoy to Kingsley's custody. Harry didn't know what he said or the effects of it, but Mrs. Malfoy appeared no different. Her gaze was still distant and her attitude was still oddly detached like the apparition of her son was.

"I would like to request an audience later, when you time is less marred by the results of the battle." Bane replied to the minister's words of thanks over his cooperation.

Kingsley nodded in agreement, "I'd like to know what was going on between Professor Dumbledore, Mrs. Malfoy and the Centaurs. And I'll be looking into this matter wandless magic."

Bane nodded curtly, he still appeared reluctant to let Mrs. Malfoy go, a defiant glare lingered in his eyes. "Her son," Bane warned as he helped Firenze towards the latter's rooms deeper into the interior of the castle, "has the same inheritance. He has fallen victim to the same mental defect as his second cousin Sirius Black and his aunt Bellatrix Lestrange. It will not be too long before he begins to show the same signs, the stars have foretold this."

Firenze nodded silently in agreement as the two centaurs made their way step by step away from the Great Hall. Kingsley was holding Narcissa's arm as the woman's eyes darted around the ceiling of the entrance hall. The doors had been shut long ago. The beams of sunlight streaming in through the broken and shattered windows appeared surreal in the contrasting darkness of the castle about them. Harry's mind was too tired to receive any more information. Sleep beckoned him as he succumbed in Ginny's arms. Holding onto one another, Harry and Ginny leaned against the first few stairs as unconsciousness claimed them.

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Draco closed his eyes tiredly as he tried to find a comfortable position to sleep in. The chairs in the minister's office were uncomfortable and his hands were still magically bound. Draco wasn't alone in his desire to sleep. His father was fighting it as he continuously nodded off every now and then only to jerk himself awake. Professor McGonagall watched him with sharp eyes. Draco began to wonder if the woman needed sleep or if she feed off the energy of others.

The office was plush and empty save the ornaments of the late minister. Draco knew that the man was dead. He was privately thankful; Shacklebolt seemed more generous in his approach than the distrustful Aurors who stood behind him. Draco had no doubt that if left alone with them he would lose his sanity through torture before being sentenced to Azkaban. With any luck, he might've gotten sentenced the Kiss, resulting a life without the mental capacity to suffer the presence of the dementors.

Draco was unsure of what the future held for him. He knew that his mother would be coming soon. There was no way that the Centaurs with their curious fascination with defective wizards would be left in charge of his ailing mother. Closing his eyes, Draco made a mental list of all the things he wanted out of life now. He wanted to go back to school to finish off his last year and begin a new life somewhere that wasn't England. The farther away he got from this place with its bad memories and spoiled view of purebloods, the better. Distantly, Draco hoped that the expulsion of magic his mother had released would disappear soon. The apparitions were just one of the emissions that his mother's uncontrollable magic produced. Depending on the mood of the wizards around it, it could last for days if not weeks. The physical presence of the apparitions was nice, Draco had to admit. Seeing himself in such a characteristic state of vulnerability made him smile a little.

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What do you think? My first HP Fic. R&R.


	2. Hero Complex

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Disclamer: I do not onw HP. I am not profiting from this adaptation of HP in any way.

Chapter Two: **Hero Complex**

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Oooo

Harry was unsure of how long he'd slept, but he awoke to a familiar sight. Blazing red walls greeted his eyes causing within him an intense desire to close them once more. Next to him, in the other bed, Harry could just make out the soft snores of his best mate, Ron. Lifting his head slowly, Harry squinted his eyes as he focused on the fact that Ron was not alone. Hermione was slumbering next to him. Relaxing, Harry numbly acknowledged that they made quite a couple. A passing thought of Ginny floated through his mind. He wondered where she was. He highly doubted that Molly or Arthur would prohibit her from entering, if Hermione's presence was any indication of this assumption.

"Finally awake I see," a pleasant voice murmured as soft footfalls drew near. Harry pushed himself up on his elbows, still too exhausted to face the blond. The movement of the bed settled him, as his lover took residence beside him in much the same fashion as Hermione had with Ron. Soft kisses brushed his jaw, shadowed with a youthful nightly growth. Gray eyes captured his as he was lulled backwards. Shifting his weight, Harry turned on his side and sighed softly. If only Ginny were here. Her warmth and this blonde devil's menstruations could fulfill a deep longing that Harry felt within himself. The gray eyed young man sat up and slowly began to unbutton his nightshirt. Teasingly, he began with the top most button and began to work his way down.

Harry fought the urge to reach out to him and run his fingers down that soft pale skin. Harry stared mesmerized as the buttons continued to release the glow of that pale flesh. Even without the aid of his glasses, Harry could still make out the delicate flesh. His breath hitched in his throat until strange patterns met his gaze. Pink scars stood out on the flesh of his minx's abdomen. The marks swirled in a chaotic manner, teasing Harry, taunting him with guilt. Memories flooded Harry's consciousness as he fought to suppress the image of Draco kneeling on the bathroom floor crying. To no avail was Harry sheltered from the room's shift from Ron's red haven to Hogwarts.

No longer was Harry laying down, he was standing, his wand firmly held in his hand. Fear and anxiety coursed through his veins. His heart was thumping fast. Harry knew without thinking that the curse had just passed through his lips. Draco's face was twisting slowly in agony as he doubled over in his own blood. Harry felt time slow as the same patterns he had been tracing with his eyes were forming and expulsing blood before him. Harry was dimly aware of Professor Snape racing past him. Anger still throbbed inside of him.

Turning from the sight before him, Harry felt the energy inside of him burst. He felt deflated. He was unworthy. Unworthy, the word floated in Harry's mind, disconnected from reality. He had tried to murder someone, Malfoy of all people. Dimly, Harry knew that this pseudo reality was the torture of a dream. He would wake up soon. For now, Draco's gasps for air, the red eyes and tear stained face disturbed him immensely.

Even as Harry felt his body rise, he knew what he had to do. His body weighed so much more than it had before. Reminded of his walk into the welcoming arms of death, Harry sat up and shrugged off the hand that was gently pressing him back to sleep. As if he could with so many problems to solve. What right did he have to sleep through it all? What right did he have to a peace of mind?

" 'Arry… go back to sleep mate," Ron murmured, not too far from where Harry had nosily risen. Sleep clawed at him to return back to the dark eternity of his mind, but he couldn't. The thought of allowing any unfinished business, any loose ends to linger made his skin crawl. As much as he hated to admit it, Malfoy needed him, perhaps just as much as the Weasleys did. Guiltily, Harry remembered the dead he had left behind in the Great Hall. So many had lain down their lives and for what? For him?

Feeling around the blankets about him, Harry felt for his glasses. He couldn't remember taking them off or feeling anyone else take them off of him. Staring at the ceiling, Harry noticed that the night sky was above him. Harry was certain that it was only a few hours ago or so that the sun had risen. It couldn't be night. Anxiety and annoyance gripped him as he rushed his fumbling for his glasses and his fingers grasped only grass beneath the thick blanket that had served as his mattress. Harry was deaf in his heightened emotion to the rustling of the leaves above his head.

"Harry Potter, you are awake," Harry bit back a bitter retort. He wasn't sure if he could take Firenze's conspicuous comments for a long period of time. Harry could feel his sanity slipping as if he was attached to an infinitely tight rope and was being pulled even further than he believed he could be stretched.

Without waiting for a reply, Firenze lifted him by his shoulders with surprising strength and set him on unsteady feet. Harry's glasses were then gently and smoothly replaced. Harry didn't realize that he was breathing raggedly until a calming hand repeatedly rubbed a circular pattern on his back.

"It will take time for you to heal, Harry Potter." Clenching and unclenching his fists, Harry motioned for his wand, still afraid to speak. Raising his eyes, Harry allowed himself to stare hard into Firenze's. He needed to get out of there, before the others stirred any further. He had already wasted too much time.

After a few minutes of Harry staring at Firenze with undisguised impatience and anger, he was lead away from his temporary resting place. Harry saw as he walked slowly after Firenze a glimpse of long red locks in his peripheral vision. Despite what he felt for Ginny, there was no voice inside of his head advising him against his decision to act for his onetime enemy. There was no balancing opposition. Everything inside of Harry that was still alive and ready to fight was concentrating on the one person who may not have deserved his focus. Harry knew that he was more than willing to sacrifice his nonexistent private life just to save his peer and Malfoy's family.

Firenze walked with confidence. Harry noted as he was lead among the trees, along an unknown path that the stars shifted ever so slightly. He remotely wondered if Firenze and the other Centaurs saw their predilections of the future that way. Gripped by a distant promise, a will more or less, Harry stepped outside of the magically configured classroom and demanded, in as manageable a voice as he could, to know where the Malfoys were being kept. Harry didn't know what to do about his nightmares, but he did know of a sure fire way of avoiding them. Malfoy was a piece of something that Harry knew that he had broken. Malfoy was the first of many pieces that Harry had to take care of. It would be a long while, Harry was certain until he could or would deal with his sleep deprivation.

ooooooOOOOOOOOooooo

"I'll ask you one more time," Draco turned away as much as he could from the fuming interrogating Auror. Sleep was out of the question and had been for quite some time. Shacklebolt had been asked out of the room. He'd been gone now for over half an hour. Draco had the distinct notion that his absence, along with McGonagall was planned. Draco was unsure if either of the Gryffindors were in on the ruse, but knowing the honest sentimentality of such house members, out of school or not, they likely had no idea about the situation that the Malfoys found themselves in.

Gripping the armrest tightly, Draco willed himself to stay calm. His mother, Narcissa had long since settled into mock defeat. Draco knew the look on her face, the position of her body. Externally, her body spoke of weakness and subservience, but Draco knew better. His mother had faced off with the Dark Lord himself countless times in silent mental combat. Draco had had the shocking privilege of witnessing the Dark Lord sitting across from his mother, not too different from how Draco and his father now sat.

It had only occurred a few weeks ago, before Potter, Granger and Weasley had foolishly gotten themselves caught. Draco had stumbled into his mother's study in an effort to avoid the unsavory presence of angry Death Eaters that had failed again in capturing Potter. He had expected his mother to be sitting in her chair as she usually was silently staring into space. Perhaps an apparition of himself at her side as was her custom when alone and not in the presence of Draco's father. Instead of finding his mother, he had tripped over a slithering Nagini as she wandered freely about the room.

Lying flat on his face, breathing deathly still, Draco recalled lifting himself slowly off of the floor. His eyes unwittingly surveyed the room and found them drawn to red eyes. Gasping and held fast by their powerful sway, Draco remembered feeling his mind being sucked into a warped reality. Everything he hated the most about his life sprang to the forefront. It was like standing outside a window of himself. There was no way for him to stop the images or the emotions that accompanied them. Draco had had no control and the window seemed to appear clearer and clearer. Until finally, he was repulsed from his own memories, it was like being shoved out of his own mind. For a time, Draco was mindless, he had no thoughts, no emotions, he was not even sure if he even had a body anymore. Nothing seemed to matter until a voice broke through the barrenness.

"I see," it began with a slight elongation of the 's,' "that you are not like your father or your _mother_. To think" the voice paused in crooning manner, "that I was in the presence of your birth."

With a distant sigh, Draco was rushed back into his body, his mind, his dreadful reality. Draco was surprised to find that his eyes were still open and his body was still frozen in the same position on the floor. Nagini was coiling near her master's feet. Narcissa was still posed for a threat seated across from the Dark Lord. A fear so deep that it knew no bounds swept through Draco submerging him in guilt. If only he had the strength to protect his mother, to be a dutiful servant. If only could have been stronger than he was in that moment.

Cringing, Draco wished he could wipe the spittle of the now red faced Auror from his forehead. For a moment, Draco could still see his mother and the Dark Lord interlocked in an intimate battle of minds or wills rather. Draco remembered being unable to leave the room for a few hours after his ungraceful entrance. The two skilled Occlumens had eyes only for each other. It still frightened Draco to think of his mother as strong enough to engage the Dark Lord. She might not have been an intelligent match for his genius, but she could hold her own when necessary.

"Boy, you need only to confirm what side you're on. _I'm trying to help you_." Draco leaned farther back in his seat at the sound of those words. His hands were still tightly bound. His breathing continued to hitch every now and them. Draco's body was still exhausted from the events of the previous months. There was no way that he could keep going like this.

Draco jumped at the sound of the Auror's hands slamming on the desk that had once been occupied by Shacklebolt.

Startled and annoyed from lack of sleep, Draco lashed out, "What's it to you? Eh? Looking to find the next Dark Lord in here? Well, you'd better head back to that fucking castle because I guarantee that's where he'll be. Know who he is? I'll give you a hint: he's got possession of the Elder Wand."

A sharp slap to the side of his face silenced Draco. Refusing to speak, biting back tears of fear, exhaustion and rage, Draco closed his eyes and waited. It wouldn't be long until this nobody decided to haul off and kill him or worse, have him committed to Azkaban for holding. Draco ignored the soft murmurings of his father who had sat silently beside him throughout the whole ordeal. A part of Draco was looking forward to whatever cell the ministry sent him too. Where ever it was, it would allow him to obtain the rest he sorely needed.

ooooooOOOOOOOOoooo

Harry arrived of at the Ministry of Magic minutes after racing to the floo in Headmistress's office. Using the floo in Firenze's office had meant spending a few more minutes having his nerves grated. Harry was greeted with cheers as he slid through the large mantled fireplace. The large crowd of witches and wizards who had chosen to work instead of celebrate parted for him as he reached the security check point. Harry was ushered through without inspection. Surprisingly, his wand had not been confiscated, despite the rules that governed the ministry.

Harry had demanded to know the whereabouts of Kingsley from the nearest wizard official he came into contact with. Harry was led by a young looking Auror who seemed to be trying to establish his position in the triumph of the Battle of Hogwarts to Harry as they passed through several corridors. Harry bit his tongue until he tasted the sour flavor of blood in his mouth. He seriously didn't want to hurt the bloke, but his patience was wearing thin. Clutching the holly wand in his fist, Harry shoved past the source of his torment and barged into the closed room.

Wand raised, Harry demanded to know the whereabouts of the Malfoy family.

Kingsley approached him without a moment to spare. "Harry! Harry calm down; put down your wand."

Fuming, Harry tilted his head to the side and looked intently into the acting minister's eyes. Without waiting for a response, Kingsley cleared the office of everyone except McGonagall.

"Why I never! Mr. Potter you will _lower your wand_!" McGonagall gasped.

"Where are they?" Harry shook his head when Kingsley offered him a seat and a goblet of what Harry assumed to be a calming draught. He was far too upset to calm down. He thrived off the energy that now consumed him. The Malfoy's were waiting for him and perhaps, deservingly so.

Kingsley sat down on the edge of the table the wizards had just vacated. "I understand that your upset, Harry. But you need to listen and cal-"

"I am calm," Harry interrupted. Harry refrained from pacing. Kingsley was wasting his time, but he couldn't think of a way to find Draco without his help. "The Malfoys, if you please," Harry gestured to the door impatiently.

"Harry," Professor McGonagall began soothingly, "you're tired. I thought you were resting in Professor Firenze classroom." Harry stiffened as McGonagall stepped closer to him. Slowly, Harry followed the advice he'd been given and lowered his wand. The tension in the room didn't recede as he was gently guided into a seat.

"I was Professor, but I couldn't rest knowing that they were here being persecuted by his men!" Harry pointed accusingly at Kingsley whose eyes were beginning to resemble Dumbledore's. The only thing missing besides the knowing twinkle was the calculating look. Not wanting to be used as the new minister's pawn, Harry physically indicated his displeasure at the sudden silence with his wand as red sparks spewed from its end.

"You're right to feel the way you do. Harry," McGonagall placed a hand on his shoulder, Harry supposed it was meant to be reassuring. "But this is not the way to react. Why didn't anyway secure your wand, Harry?"

Harry jerked away from McGonagall's wandering hand in an effort of stopping her from trying to coax his wand from his hand. Standing abruptly, Harry walked over to the only entrance into the meeting room and repeated his mission.

With a sigh, Kingsley tore his gaze away from McGonagall's and stood to shadow Harry. Bracing himself, Harry tensed. He wandered, unconcernedly, if he would have to fight his allies to save his enemies.

ooooOOOOOOOOOOOooo

Draco stared at the goblet of cool liquid resting in front of him. His parched lips and dry throat ached for just one drop. Shy of drooling for the fresh drink, Draco turned to face his father. He'd never seen his father so drained, so defeated. As odd as it was to ponder, Draco was unsure if his father was more upset about the Dark Lord's defeat or the whole of the Wizarding World discovering the magical condition of his wife, Narcissa. Considering that one's reputation could always be mended, Draco was sure it was the latter. What wizard would marry and sire a child with a defective witch, despite high birth and pure blood?

Draco fought the cloud of tears that threatened to overcome him. How had things become so bad, so horrid? A soft hum brought Draco from the edge of the madness he was about to descend into.

Since sixth year, since Dumbledore's death and perhaps without his realizing it probably before that year, his life had become something of a conscious nightmare. Draco had long ago been dispelled of his belief in father as a hero. Hero's simply did not exist.

Ignoring his mother's characteristic mechanism of making soothing sounds when she sensed his distress, Draco thought he heard noise from outside of the lush office. The terrorizing Auror had been called out a few minutes prior, but not before conjuring a full glass goblet to sit before Draco on the desk. He'd sneered at Draco as he vacated the room. Lucius had still failed to find his voice.

When the clamor became louder and more apparent that it was outside the door, Draco sat up straighter. If more Aurors were coming to try their luck, he wouldn't let them see him looking so defeated and desirous for anything to quell his thirst. The door burst open and a burst of magic reminding Draco of his mother cut through the spell binding his hands together. Flexing his free hands and rubbing his wrists, Draco turned to face his rescuer.

Harry Potter stood in all of his splendid glory in the entrance to the minister's office. The soft glow from the fireplace seemed to reach him and emphasize his rugged features and tousled hair. It wasn't until Draco stood from his prison of a chair that he saw the tightening of the Savior's fingers around his wand and it was nearly impossible to ignore the sparks that spurted from the end of it. Raising his chin, as if meeting a challenge instead of an ally, Draco slowly moved toward his father and helped him stand. He helped his mother last. She was standing stiffly and flexing her hands giddily.

Harry moved into the room stealthily, the acting minister, Shacklebolt and headmistress, McGonagall followed. Upon a closer inspection, Harry looked as tired and worn as Draco was sure that he and his father looked. Narcissa appeared almost ethereal, if a little dirty. To Draco she seemed to be where she always was: in between the realm of reality and the world of make believe. Harry advanced forward, his wand still expelling sparks.

Draco tensed all too conscious of his wandlessness. "We're leaving for Hogwarts," Harry announced as he reached Draco, just a foot or two from the blonde's personal space. Lucius held onto his wife's limber arm as he attempted, in Draco's opinion, to support himself. The last time they had seen the Savior, he'd been surrounded by cheering wizards and witches. Why he was wasting his time concerning himself with problems not his own? Draco chalked it up to his hero complex. Draco fought a sneer that dared to portray his emotions.

"Well," Harry gestured to the door.

"We need to set ground rules, Harry," Shacklebolt declared softly as he closed the door behind him. The faces of the menacing Aurors in the hallway were sheltered from Draco's view. Draco had the distinct impression from the sour, pinched expression on McGonagall's face that Harry was acting from his own will and against her own. Shacklebolt's hand waved behind him against the door. Draco knew the sign of a silent spell when he saw one. Whatever 'ground rules' Shacklebolt wanted to lay down, he wanted them to be just between those present.

Draco watched Shacklebolt and McGonagall exchange a look and simultaneously turned to stare at Harry. Harry's wand had ceased expulsing the conspicuous red sparks, but he didn't appear anymore manageable than before.

"First, the Malfoys are a special case, as you have thoughtfully pointed out to us, so we'll house them at Hogwarts. There isn't a place more protected and surrounded by Aurors at the present time than the ministry here."

"You mean the holding cells." Harry added a disgusted look cast over his usually swaggering countenance. Draco fought the urge to stand next to his mum and dad. Lucius' eyes had clouded over and Narcissa had one arm around her husband's waist. Whatever made Draco's parents unite under any circumstances beyond the realm of Draco and his needs eluded him.

Draco figured that Shacklebolt had chosen to ignore Harry's comment as he continued on, "until sufficient evidence has been gathered and of course until things here in the ministry and in the wider Wizarding World are organized, the Malfoys will not be free to go. The Malfoy manor is currently under investigation since Lord Voldemort took residence there. There are some other prior investigations of the manor which had been thwarted before the war that will resume once again now that the opportunity has presented itself." Shacklebolt paused and sent a meaningful glance in Lucius' direction. Shacklebolt could be sly when it was convenient for him.

"I would prefer if the Malfoys stayed in the Gryffindor Tower where I can keep a watch over them. Harry, you will be there as well, I assume and you can even have your old bed," McGonagall ended softly. Her voice was still firm, but there was a sadness to the edges of her eyes and her overall physical demeanor that spoke to Draco. If he didn't feel so tired, so worn thin because the barrage of an array of emotions he might have been able to empathize with her.

Shacklebolt nodded in agreement, he only had eyes for Harry now.

"They won't be able to travel outside of Hogwarts will they?"

"No"

"Not without a guard"

"An armed guard," Harry corrected.

"Yes, Harry, an armed guard," Shacklebolt conceded.

"No magic either, or rather wandless magic," Shacklebolt continued with a favored glance at Draco's mother and a casual glance at Draco himself.

"I don't believe that their wands will be returned until some date after the trial and a probational period. They aren't to be left alone," Shacklebolt raised a silencing hand to still the beginnings of Harry's protests, "I don't think that even your presence will suffice, Harry."

"I will see to it that they are provided for as far as food and clothing. I'm sure Madame Pomfrey will not object to a health inspection once everyone is settled and well rested," McGonagall assured Harry.

Sleep was truly wearing on the edges of Draco's vision as he listened to the rest of Shacklebolt's rules and regulations. Draco was glad to accept Shacklebolt's humanitarianism without complaint. Why Harry was doing this Draco was still unsure, but he followed Harry as he led the way from Shacklebolt's office to the main floor of the ministry. Draco's mother, father, McGonagall, the acting minister himself along with half a dozen Aurors completed the march to the floo networks.

Whatever Harry had in mind as a form of reconciliation, Draco wasn't sure if he was ready to accept. Upon entering the headmistress' office, Draco listened to the authoritative instructions of his most strict professor. After silently agreeing and swaying as he nodded to the headmistress' demands, Draco felt his body move in mimicry after Harry's. Draco thought he'd never be too happy to see a warm comfy bed before he'd traversed down the spiral staircase from the headmistress' office, down a corridor or two to the Great Hall, up the changing staircase down a few corridors and through the portrait of a fat lady. Falling face first onto the first bed he saw after entering the bedroom, Draco promptly fell asleep. He didn't seem to notice the narrowed eyes of his bodyguard nor the dormant desirous gaze from a pair of deep set green eyes.

oooooOOOOOOOOOOoooo

What do you think?

R&R…


	3. Redheaded Charity

Disclaimer: I do not own HP. What I write is for fun, not profit.

On with the story…

**Redheaded Charity**

ooooooOOOOOooooo

Draco slept for a long while. When he awoke, he awoke to red and gold, the house colors of Gryffindor tower. His surroundings appeared surreal, but as he reached up to pinch his cheek, he knew that this was his reality. The Dark Lord had indeed been vanquished and he was at the mercy of the victors. Harry _bloody_ Potter was the most triumphant of all of his enemies. Draco was now at his mercy.

Pushing himself into a sitting position, the red sheets fell away as he rose. The curtains around the four poster bed were closed tightly. Draco supposed that his parents could have done that or they were magically held close. Perhaps, he wouldn't be able to open them without some sort of permission from the caster. Willing to try his luck, Draco moved towards the curtains opening at the foot of the bed. Reaching out, Draco easily pulled the red and gold cloth apart.

Staring about the room with wonder, Draco didn't see Potter and relief spread through him. There were two forms facing away from him on a bed two beds away from his own. Draco understood why his father had chosen to sleep with his mother a few beds away from his own. His mother had a knack for entering his dreams and trying to comfort him. Draco knew that his father was merely attempting to spare him from the confusion and embarrassment that accompanied his mother entering his dreams. Draco had once overheard his father pleading with his mother to stop, but she'd murmured about being unable to. Draco thought that her answer had been a cover. Narcissa's ability to really understand that people existed outside of and separate from herself was something Draco felt she would never truly grasp.

Slowly, Draco stood on his feet, careful not to make too much noise. The noticeable pounding of his full bladder made Draco want search for the loo. The last think he needed was to have an accident in the middle of foreign territory, especially, considering his age and his lack of a wand. A flash of fury erupted from inside of Draco. His wand had not even been confiscated by the ministry, Potter had it! Clinching his fists, Draco walked around the heater located in the center of the circular room and headed for the door.

Draco was surprised not to find one of the ministry bastards outside of the door waiting to breathe down his neck and follow him around the dormitory. Draco found himself grateful to Professor McGonagall's tenacity at keeping what belonged to her strictly under her control. Draco did understand that once he set foot outside of the dormitory that an auror would shadow him to death. Appreciatively, Draco made his way down the short hall in front of the stairs to the lavatory.

After relieving himself, Draco followed the voices of his captors down the staircase. The sun shone through the high arched windows adorning the walls of the stone stairwell.

"Harry! You didn't vouch for them did you? Come on mate, you can't trust a Malfoy, let alone three of them." Draco sneered at the superior tone of voice the Weasel used against him and his family.

"Ronald!" another voice gasped. Draco knew Granger's voice anywhere, "what he means Harry, is that you shouldn't put so much on your plate. You're tired. We can both see it, anyone looking straight at you can tell. You haven't even slept. Tell us what we can do to help you! Harry, please!"

Draco froze near the bend in the staircase. He didn't want to be seen by the Golden Trio. Silence reigned for a few minutes before Harry began to speak, "I did sleep," Harry paused and an audible slap, probably to arm, could be heard, "perhaps only for an hour or three, but that doesn't matter. And I'm not stopping Hermione, I can't. They need me, if I hadn't shown up who knows what would have happened."

Draco could hear the aggravated sigh admitted by the Weasel, "Harry, alright mate, Mrs. Malfoy saved your life, 'Mione and I understand that. But Lucius and the Ferret?! Come on Harry they're a lost cause!"

Draco couldn't see Harry and he didn't dare peer around the corner for fear of being caught, but he was immensely surprised by Harry's response. "Listen," Harry began, "the Malfoy's, they need help, I don't mind if they're too proud to ask for it. Mrs. Malfoy isn't a bad person and Malfoy isn't such a prat. I mean look at what he's had to grow up with: a Death Eater for a father and a mum who's two failed spells from St. Mungo's. I mean, I know the Dursley's were mad, but…" Draco strained to hear more, but Harry drifted off into silence.

Hermione picked up filling the stillness of the common room, "Harry's right, Ron, if you think our nightmare of being on the run was hard, how much more frightening was it for him? Living with Voldemort and his henchmen? I can't even imagine it. Just spending time with his crazy aunt Bellatrix," Hermione choked a little, Draco turned away despising the emotion he heard in her voice.

"It's all right," the Weasel's voice consoled gently, "the bitch is dead now, thanks to my mum." Draco could practically feel the satisfaction in the Weasel's voice. Speaking of the dead, Draco's mind focused on his godfather. Had Severus made it out alive? Sitting back, Draco wished he'd been nicer to his godfather or at least a bit more respectful. He had yet to over hear anyone referencing his godfather, not since the war's end, not even when he'd been questioned by the auror. Draco deduced that the man must have died. Perhaps, Draco dimly knew that already. Somewhere in the subconscious of his mind, Draco was almost positive that life was better this way. Severus had been quite a miserable person anyway. Still, it saddened him to think that such a brilliant potions master would be the causality of a war such as this one.

Suddenly, to overcome with guilt his of own, Draco turned and slowly stood in an effort to retreat back to the bedroom from which he had come. Unfortunately, he was impeded by the ugliest house elf he'd seen in ages. Draco was about to command the house elf to leave his presence when it spoke, "Master Potter, there is a relative of Master Regulus eavesdropping on your conversation."

Draco bit back a growl as he stumbled around the bend in the staircase and down the steps. "I wasn't listening in," Draco said defiantly, loud enough for the trio to hear him.

He turned and saw the Golden Trio rise. The Weasel stood just a little in front Granger; his wand was drawn as if facing an enemy. Draco sneered openly at them. He wasn't sure if it was daybreak or evening or even how many days he had slept. He did know that his life was not his own. It rested in the hands of the young man in front of him. The young wizard who'd probably cast a killing curse at him if he voiced how he was really feeling and what he was truly thinking.

"What were you doing then?" another voice intervened. Draco raised his eyes to the intruder and saw the scarred face of yet another red headed Weasley, Bill Weasley; the one who'd been attacked by Greyback. Draco eyed him, taking a conscious step backward. The last thing he needed was to be bitten by a near-werewolf. Living with Greyback and working with him nearly two years ago had given him a life's supply of necessary werewolf contact.

Draco narrowed his eyes and wearily turned about to head back up the stairs. He'd been interrogated once; he didn't need this half-breed, lowly creature to try to do the same. Draco wished he had his wand so that he might blast the elf off the stairwell. The ugly elf hadn't moved at all. Refusing to turn around, Draco made a point of walking up the stairs slowly in an attempt to physically remind the elf who was truly in charge. He'd kick the elf if he had too.

"It's fine, Kreacher. Let him go. I'm sure he'll have more to say at lunch which will be in a few hours Draco. I expect, well, we expect to see you and your mum and dad. We'll have lunch, it'll be alright. I'll knock if I don't see you down here." Harry paused before adding the last bit, "you don't have a choice Draco, I'm to look after you. Either myself or the Aurors and I'm plenty sure that you'd rather have me. So, I'll be seeing you then."

It was with stiff shoulders that Draco kept going to the top of the stairs. He managed to open and close the lavatory door. After locking it and wishing he could perform a silencing charm, he slid to the tiled floor and curled up against the door. With his knees pressed against his chest, Draco allowed the tears that had threatened to spill to glide down his cheeks. When had his life become a miserable, open book?

oOOOOOOOOOoo

Harry was sure that he'd come off as friendly as possible. The situation dictated some form of decorum that was as much as Harry had hoped Draco would offer him. He was however, surprised not to receive threats of violence, cursing or another type of insult flung his way. Harry assumed that the Dark Lord being vanquished did just as much harm to the Malfoy's as it would have if he'd won. Harry was positive that either way, the Malfoys would be in distress. He supposed that at least he was alive to offer some semblance of a guarantee that there would be a fair trial and hopefully no sentencing to the dementor's kiss.

Feeling a friendly hand on his shoulder, Harry fought the urge to shrug it off. He knew Mr. Weasley was only trying to be helpful. Turning from Kreacher who'd happily delivered the morning meal to Gryffindor tower, Harry headed back to the seating area. What was left of the Weasley clan gathered there. Harry made a point of sitting next to Ginny. She was still taking the death of her cleverly funny brother hard, as was Percy. Harry heard the distant pop of Kreacher dismissing himself. Although, Harry was sure that the loyal house elf was only a call away.

Grasping her hand upon sitting, Harry listened to the concerns of his comrades about what to do with the Malfoys. Harry supposed that it was best that Draco hadn't put up a fight. It made Harry's case for their unwitting hand in Voldemort's plans a logical argument. This was something Harry still found himself arguing with himself, his friends and the Weasley's about.

Mr. Weasley sat across from him with his wife by his side. Bill opted to stand behind the armchair where his wife, Fleur was sitting. Ron and Hermione befittingly occupied a loveseat to Harry's left. Charlie and Percy were situated to Harry's right in two separate reading chairs moved from the fire place. George was pacing a few feet away. The worn look on his face was wearing on Harry's nerves. The guilt was steadily building.

"Harry, _dear_," Mrs. Weasley emphasized as she gathered her tea cup closer and added more sugar, a sign of her nerves, "Draco, may be able to clear his name, but his parents are going to Azkaban. There is no doubt in my mind that that is where they belong." Harry watched the firm nod of affirmation and declined an offer of tea from the tray on the low table between them.

Mr. Weasley looked tired and older than he'd appeared to Harry than in the time before the war. The harder Harry thought about it, the less he was sure he could remember a time before the event of this century. "Why don't you come and stay with us? You are family, Harry, it's the best place for you right now."

Harry shook his head. There would be no convincing him. His place was here, in Hogwarts or wherever the Malfoy's were being kept. They needed some veil of protection from the ministry which Harry knew was searching for some way to reassert its stability. How better to do that than to condemn one of the most powerful and influential families in the wizarding world in Azkaban. Harry was sure that there was no one left to fight for the Malfoys and if Lucius' defeated attitude was any barometer, then being sentenced to Azkaban appeared to be his just deserts.

"Harry, listen, please," Hermione began, her fingers intertwined in Ron's. "You need rest and you obviously can't get it here. Come back to the burrow, sleep while Ron and I go find my parents. When we get back we can put our heads together and figure out how we can _legally_ help them." Harry noted the stress she put on the word 'legal'. Hermione hadn't liked what he told them the day before about how he'd gone about retrieving the Malfoy's from the Ministry of Magic. Using his intensified fame as the savior was not appreciated by his close friend at all. Harry heard her words and understood her meaning. He could not however, stand by them. Hermione could lecture him until she was blue in the face, Harry couldn't release the guilt and responsibility weighing on his shoulders concerning the Malfoys. Draco didn't deserve to lose his mother, his father perhaps, but not his mother.

"I hear you, I've heard all of you out, but there's nothing you can do to change my mind. I'll keep doing what I think is necessary until this is all over with. I'll sleep then Hermione, you have my word." Harry replied with a finality that caused the Weasleys around him to exchange looks, he was sure the moment he left the room they would not hesitate to discuss their worries over his decisions.

Sadly, there was no Dumbledore to manipulate the way. There was no Severus to sarcastically bully him into making the right choice. There was no Remus to wisely guide him. Harry was all he had left and if he didn't listen to his own judgment, then he'd be just as lost and judgmental as the rest.

Squeezing Ginny's hand, Harry rose, "I need to think and perhaps lay down in time for lunch. Let me know when you're departing okay?" Harry glanced in Hermione's general direction. He knew that her concern came not only from her desire for him to finally have peace in his life, but also from the fear of the Elder wand. Harry had yet to place it back into the confines of Dumbledore's coffin with so many Aurors around and the Weasley's following his every move, Harry had not had a chance to rid himself of it. Only Hermione and Ron knew of course, but it didn't stop Hermione from letting him have it after he'd deposited the Malfoys in the boys' dormitory. Since chasing the small blond apparition, Harry hadn't thought too much of putting the Elder wand back. A part of him wanted to continue to use it if only to help aid him in his plan to save at least two of the Malfoys from a term in the wizarding prison.

Hermione's eyes softened, she could never stay angry with him for long, "Alright, Ron and I will let you know when we're on our way." Hermione gave Harry a tight smile. She looked weary, but definitely better rested that Harry himself was. Maybe the sun in Australia would lighten her spirits. Harry wanted to witness Hermione's reunion with her parents, but he couldn't bare the thought of leaving the Malfoys alone for an extending period of time. There was also the freedom of riding himself of Hermione and Ron's presence and constant questioning that put Harry to ease.

The farther Harry moved away from everyone, Ginny especially, the more he felt like a wall was rising inside of him. Harry knew what he had to do and would go to great lengths to fulfill his task. It wasn't until he reached the back of the fat lady's portrait, the entrance to the dormitory that Harry was stopped by a hand on his shoulder.

"Even if you disagree with us and us with you, Harry, if you need anything, _anything_ to ask of us, please say so."

Harry nodded without turning to face Bill. He didn't want to see his scared face. The guilt was beginning to mount again and Harry needed fresh air. When the hand squeezed his shoulder hard before letting go, Harry escaped into the hall, his mind plagued by what he should do with the Malfoys.

oOOOOOOOOOOOoooooo

Time passed too fast for Draco. He'd taken an hour long shower after sitting on the hard marble floor with tears streaming down his cheeks. He understood that it was indeed midday and not day break after recalling Harry's request for his presence at lunch. Draco distantly wandered if the Weasleys would be attending. He already knew that the Aurors would be there. With a shaky breath, Draco unlocked the bathroom door and crossed the short walkway to the bedroom. After closing the door behind him, he was greeted with a gentle and warm embrace by his mother. Draco's father remained sitting on the bed, his clothes bedraggled from sleep. He looked as rumpled and perhaps more so now than he had the previous day and night.

"How did you sleep?" Draco wormed out of his mother's arms and brushed himself off. His clothes were freshly laundered compared to hers. They had appeared after he'd removed them to shower. Draco knew that some house elf had been responsible for the clean outfit and he was grateful. He was certain that once his parents visited the loo they would appear the same afterward.

"Mother, please," Draco began harshly, venting his frustration on her, "I am not a child. The bathroom is right outside the door across the hall. There's no one up here except us. I don't suppose that the Weasleys will be wandering upstairs to visit any time soon."

Draco knew he'd spoken too soon when a knock resounded in the room. Closing his eyes, Draco caught himself before a curse left his lips. Surrounded by the red and gold and with no place to hide, Draco waited for the inevitable. The Aurors were back, sooner than Potter had said they would be. Maybe Potter's word wasn't as strong as Draco had assumed it to be.

Draco opened his eyes and ignored the next round of knocks on the door as he walked back over to the bed he'd occupied for the last day and a half. He sat down on the trunk situated in front of it. If the Aurors were back, he wasn't going to open the door and welcome them in with open arms. Draco watched his father stand stiffly facing the door before he too retreated to his former lodgings. Draco felt his eyebrows raise as his father climbed back into the sanctuary of his bed and closed the curtains. Was his father so removed from reality that the land of dreams had become his only refuge? Narcissa moved towards the door slowly as if the sound of irritated knocking would cease before she arrived.

Draco watched his mother slowly pull the door back towards herself as she invited the unwanted guests inside. Mrs. Weasley and the newer and younger Mrs. Weasley entered the room with all the grace of an ostrich proudly holding its head above ground. Draco fought hard not sneer as the Weaselette followed after them. Draco wasn't surprised at the sight of them, he was however surprised that Granger and the Weasel were nowhere to be seen. The horribly scarred face of the younger Mrs. Weasley's husband appeared in the door way as the door was pushed completely open. Draco sniffed at the partial werewolf's precautions.

"Good afternoon," the older Mrs. Weasley began crisply. After the night before, Draco wondered if she wanted to get rid of the lot of them for her precious family's sake. They were after all related to the very much hated, despised and deranged Bellatrix Lestrange.

Narcissa had since moved backwards with the entrance of each new Weasley. She ended up nearer to Draco than he thought comfortable. Draco watched his mother, a pool of shame and embarrassment welling inside his gut. She still looked bedraggled and subordinate to the inferior redheaded creatures and lone blond creature in the room. Her pale hair was a long mess and her eyes were dangerously alive with renewed curiosity. Sometimes the intensity in his mother's eyes mirrored those of the Dark Lord. Draco suppressed a shiver of fear.

Tilting her head to the side, Narcissa spoke questioningly with a hint of command in her voice, "Is your husband here, downstairs perhaps?" Draco resisted the urge to sigh, although the affronted and slightly scandalized look on the older Mrs. Weasley's face was worth it, he knew that she was overreacting.

"I beg your pardon?" the scandalized voice annunciated.

Draco watched his mother jump lightly at the high pitched sound and move backwards again. She didn't appear fearful, only more curious. "He has _muggle _artifacts, does he not?" Narcissa continued furthering Draco's humiliation. He'd never imagined his mother would divulge her nasty habit of indulging in collecting muggle things. Draco stilled his features as the Weaselette's eyes attempted to burn him with their ferocity. If Draco didn't know better he would have thought the girl was jealous, but what of? Ginerva Weasley had the most powerful wizard wrapped around her skinny freckled finger.

Mortified, Draco watched his mother continue with her incredulous conversation. He would have stopped her if he deemed himself in such a position. Usually, his father would step in and put her in her proper place. Draco knew that the influence of the Dark Lord had propelled his father to take harsher measures with Narcissa to ensure that her divulgence in Muggle artifacts would remain hidden. The fear of being found out as a traitor had weighed heavily on all of their minds. With his father out of commission as leader of the Malfoy clan, Draco couldn't decide whether to allow his mother to extend her wand –sort of speak- and attempt to find likeminded allies or to rein her in with a harsh reprimand.

"I've always wanted to see his collection," Narcissa took a brave step forward. She sounded as if she were admiring the older Mrs. Weasley. From the heightened red eyebrows, Draco was very sure that Mrs. Weasley was not pleased at all. Narcissa continued her advance, "My husband's …associates," Draco cocked an eyebrow of his own to his mother's clever adjective, "spoke of it. He owns a c-car and many more _muggle_ um…apply…appliances," Narcissa smiled at her correct pronunciation as she arrived just a mere foot in front of the older Mrs. Weasley.

Draco pressed his lips firmly together to halt the laughter that threatened to bubble forth. He had nothing to fear from these nobodies, friends of the Wizarding World's savior be damned! A thrill of such intensity that Draco wasn't sure which end he would burst from first welled within him out of nowhere. He was sure that the glint in his eye was readable to the Weaselette because her lips tightened in an unpleasant sort of way.

"My father does indeed have a muggle collection of sorts." The scarred Weasley answered for his tongue tied mother. He continued, "If you aren't condemned to Azkaban and my father and mother are all right with a visit, I'm positive you can see it." Narcissa smiled affectionately at the wounded man before turning to face Draco's father or at least where he was sheltered from view.

Draco wasn't surprised by the generosity of the Weasleys' hospitality. He knew they were blood traitors for a reason. The blond half-veela turned on her heel and locked arms with her husband as if she were affronted by Narcissa's response. Draco didn't get a chance to hear his father's response, if he had any at all to Narcissa's openness about her muggle infatuation. Although, Draco knew that Weasley's had no idea that a Malfoy could collect Muggle things and enjoy Muggle watching as much as his mother did.

A small voice rang out among the tense crowd in the Gryffindor boy's dormitory, "Daddy, why are you crying?" Draco turned at the sound of a child's voice filling the room, his voice. Draco narrowed his eyes and wished his mother could control her magic for once in her life. Ignoring the stinging of a memory trying to surface, Draco watched with rapt attention as the curtain was pulled open by a small hand. A small pointed face appeared out from the slit. Draco distantly heard a gasp, though he didn't know who had released it, he was sure that it was the older Mrs. Weasley.

The blond haired boy of about five years of age pointed a finger at Draco, "You're mean!" He declared, "you never play with me! Mum, make him play with me!" Draco sneered at the boy as he jumped down from the bed and leaned back to yank a much larger and paler hand behind him. "Come with me father, mummy's over there. We'll make you smile and that nasty boy over there too." Draco dismissed the urge to throttle the child as he stared at himself.

"Leave him alone, no one asked you to come here. Mother, please," Draco demanded as he turned to glare in Narcissa's direction. She appeared almost ethereal with her glazed expression, tousled hair, messy clothes and folded arms. Her eyes were unfocused in the way that they usually were.

Draco heard rather than saw his father completely pull back the curtain and rise following the small tyrants desires. Draco was nearly shoved backwards by him as he stood in front, blocking his view of Narcissa.

"Draco," the boy began reaching to run his fingers to through Draco's hair, "why aren't you nicer to me?"

"Because you are not real and you think that you are." Draco slapped away the boy's cold hands. They reminded him of a corpse. He noticed how the Weasleys were staying especially silent.

"But, I am real, Draco," the boy said gray eyes glittering with excitement as if this were all a game as he leaned closer. "I have a name and a mum and a father and I have _you."_

Draco grimaced. He was used to seeing him around the mansion as a preteen and teen as he spent more and more time apart from his mother and as her anxiety heightened. He'd never really had a long conversation with the apparition. The young boy usually shadowed his mother, rarely asking him to play a game or too. Often the games weren't even wizarding games, they revolved around using muggle contraptions and Draco knew his father would severely disapprove, so he had always declined.

Draco rolled his eyes as the apparition leaned forward to wrap him in a tight embrace, one similar to his mother's.

"Dearie," Draco watched the older Mrs. Weasley begin, having found her voice in this awkward situation, "what is your name?"

The blond hair boy gave Draco a quick and innocent peck on the cheek before turning to face the blood traitor.

"Evan is my name, Miss…" Evan raised his eyebrows as his voice drifted off. Draco smirked at the tone of it, he sounded as if he were pretending to be father, talking to someone of lower rank.

"_Mrs. _Weasley," the older redhead amended catching on to the attitude of the apparition.

For a moment he wasn't sure if the apparition was going to stick out its tongue. "Have you come to punish us, Mrs. Weasley," the apparition asked moving closer to her. When he stood in front of her, Draco found his eyes focused on his father. He looked as if he'd been showered and dressed long before Draco himself had arrived in the room minutes earlier. Draco suspected his mother's wandless magic as the culprit for his father had been as unsightly as she. Though, his red eyes gave away the fact that he'd been crying.

"Of course we haven't," the Weaselette consoled as she too moved closer to the small boy with the blond hair and pointed chin. She knelt beside him and gazed at him silently. Draco figured she was trying to see how the magic had woven itself so tightly and neatly into a human boy. His father would often do the same when he thought he was alone with it and thought that he was under no one's supervision. Draco knew that he mother's magic was superior to every other wizard or witch in the room, and that included himself, not that he couldn't perform wandless magic at all.

Fleur remained at the door's entrance as if posed to flee. The scarred Weasley walked over to the apparition and spoke to Narcissa, "Can you make it transform into anything you want?"

Narcissa responded bashfully, "Yes, or sometimes he'll become what you need him to be."

The partial werewolf nodded as if confirming something he'd thought of all along. "And last night, with Fred? He shape shifted because he was needed by Lee Jordan?"

Draco watched the Weaselette turn towards her brother with a surprised look upon her face, "What? Why Lee, Bill? What about us! We're his family."

Bill shook his head lightly and frowned, "I'm not sure. I didn't get a chance to ask him before he left. He looked grateful though." Draco thought he added the last bit as an afterthought. It was possible, at least in Draco's mind that the black boy was having some sort of nontraditional relationship with one of the Weasley twins. Draco would have smirked but he did want to draw anymore unwanted attention to himself than he already had.

Mrs. Weasley seemed to break free of her preoccupied curiosity with Narcissa's magical capabilities and reiterated that lunch would be served soon in the Great Hall. Draco's stomach jumped at the thought of eating where the Dark Lord had been vanquished. He gazed around the room. The Weasley's would be joining them in all of their charity.

Stopping short of rolling his eyes, Draco stood up and walked over to his mother. Ignoring the protests of the apparition, he guided her by the elbow out of the room to the lavatory. Once he pushed her in and closed the bathroom door, he leaned back against it with a sigh. Raising his steely gray eyes to the interior of the room across the hall, Draco found himself becoming the object of attention. Even the young Mrs. Weasley graced him with an odd look upon her beautiful countenance. Grimacing, Draco closed his eyes and wished his mother would hurry up. It was going to be a long afternoon entertaining a group of impoverished redheaded blood traitors bent on serving him through an obligation to charity.

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Thanks for reading. Hopefully the next update will come faster!

R&R


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